Go to Sri Lanka in the Off-Season. Here's Why.
Everyone says to visit Sri Lanka between December and March. But here's what you'll find when you go against the grain: near-empty beaches, a visit to one of Asia's great ancient sites full of pilgrims, not coach parties, and, if you're lucky, a leopard strolling so close you can hear its paws on the ground.
Waxing lyrical about going off-season is fast becoming my schtick. After visiting Borneo in November, I was already sold on the benefits of seeing a destination “out of hours” – and given how central Sri Lanka is to ETG’s story (it’s where we were born, after all), it was long past time I paid it a visit.
Spotting storks on safari in Wilpattu National Park
We travelled in June, which is a mixed bag weather-wise across the island. It’s the middle of the South-West monsoon, which is usually more gentle than it sounds: the rain tends to arrive as short, sharp bursts or brief afternoon thunderstorms that clear quickly, rather than settling in for the day. Sea conditions can be too rough for swimming in places, but the east coast is basking in sunshine and has calm seas.
Up in the Cultural Triangle and further north, it’s typically dry but can get hot, and the same goes for the dry-zone national parks. The upshot: unless you’re heading east to somewhere like Passikudah or Arugam Bay, you’ll find your path diverging from the crowds the moment you step off the plane.
The Perks of Going to Sri Lanka Off-Season
This was clear as day in the wildlife reserves, Wilpattu and Yala. I’d heard all the horror stories, and I had a picture in my head of Yala as a hundred jeeps jostling for a glimpse of one long-suffering water buffalo. It couldn’t have been further from our experience.
We spent an afternoon in Block 5 with just three or four other jeeps, and honestly, there were moments I felt like I was in a storybook: herds of spotted deer grazed nearby, huge clouds of butterflies swirled around us as we crossed a sun-dappled river, and a sloth bear ambled so close we could hear him snuffling for his afternoon snack in the grass. (May to July is peak season for exactly this, as sloth bears give up their usual hiding spots and spend their days out in the open, feeding on the palu berries that fall this time of year.)
Curious spotted deer and a snacking sloth bear, Yala
We spent a full ten minutes speechless, watching a baby elephant (less than a month old, according to our guide) wobble around on shaky legs while the herd closed protectively in around him. And then there were the birds. Our favourites were the green bee-eaters; as ubiquitous here as sparrows, but so bright and vivid we never got tired of them.
We stayed the night at Kulu Safaris, with the camp entirely to ourselves. After the safari, dinner was served by firelight on the dock, our guide pointing out crocodiles lurking in the shallows (some of us were delighted by this, some rather less so). The sightings didn’t stop there either; my room was right at the edge of the property, and an elephant ambled past as I made my way to bed.
Baby elephant and a bright bee-eater in Yala in June, with barely another jeep in sight.
The following morning, we headed into Block 1 via the quieter Kataragama gate, and luck was on our side again: barely a handful of other vehicles in sight. This time we had a mission. We’d already glimpsed a leopard in Wilpattu, but wanted one more sighting to put the cherry on top.
We spotted kingfishers and other birdlife, but a leopard was still eluding us. Just as we turned back towards the park exit, ready to accept those were our sightings for the day, our guide got the call we’d been waiting for. We doubled back and made it in time to watch Jerry, a dominant male leopard, stroll down the road, entirely unbothered by the three other jeeps keeping their distance. He came close enough for us to see every marking. Magic.
Jerry, strolling down the road entirely unbothered by the three jeeps watching him.
(I’m not sure I can go on safari again after this; we were far too lucky for our own good and I fear I’ve been spoiled!)
The Cultural Triangle and Hill Country had a nice buzz to them. There were a few more people around here (you’re never going to have Sigiriya completely to yourself), but we never felt swamped by crowds, and the hotels we stayed in were small and peaceful.
Anuradhapura was a real highlight for all of us. Rather than visiting in the heat of the day, we went at night, and it’s an experience that will stay with me for years to come. Not another tourist in sight, but the grounds of the great stupa were full of people praying and making offerings, monks chanting and singing. Everyone was remarkably friendly and welcoming, too; a monk came over to share his offering with us, and another group quizzed us on where we’d come from, one mentioning he’d lived in a monastery just outside London for a time. The drifting incense, the chanting, the whole scene: properly surreal. (We’ve written more on why we do the Cultural Triangle differently here).
And up in the hills, AMBA Estate was one of our favourite stays; there was just one other couple staying when we were there, and we ended up chatting with them and the owner, Simon, over dinner. I felt truly humbled by my own tea habits in the face of our guide’s knowledge during AMBA’s tea tour. (More on this tea tour, and other Hill Country stays, in our full write-up here.) I can never admit to my family how much I spent on tea at AMBA, but it was worth every penny. Now I can enjoy a cup of properly brewed Ceylon (no boiling water here!) and reminisce about my trip.
AMBA’s farm shop, stocked with their own teas
The Trade-Offs When Going Off-Season
The flipside of quiet is, well, quiet. There were three of us travelling together, so it didn’t bother us much, but in some places we were the only guests around. If you’re travelling solo or as a couple, or you simply like a bit more atmosphere in the evenings, it’s worth considering.
Galle Fort was charming by day but a bit of a ghost town after dark; the people staying here seemed to stick to having dinner in their hotels. On the South coast, we had a beach retreat in Tangalle entirely to ourselves, and while we couldn’t fault it, we did wish for a bit more company for atmosphere’s sake. Plus, the red flags were firmly out on the beach, so swimming was off the cards too. We didn’t manage to head to the East coast this time, where the story is rather different, but it’s well worth bearing in mind when you’re planning the route (with one of our specialists, naturally).
The south coast in June: red flags out, sea too rough for swimming, but you get the beaches (and pool) practically to yourself.
We also got remarkably lucky with the weather, with just a handful of showers. They were those proper tropical ones, “short and sharp”, torrential downpours that were gone again within fifteen minutes. It didn’t get in the way of any of our plans but still, do expect some rain along the way, and pack a good, lightweight mac for when it arrives.
So… Would I Recommend It?
Without a moment’s hesitation. Yes, you’ll trade a swim on the south coast for a potential soaking on the way to a leopard sighting, and yes, you might find yourself dining solo by candlelight rather more often than you’d planned. But you’ll also have some of the island’s most celebrated spots practically to yourself, and get to watch a month-old elephant learn to use his legs with no one else’s jeep blocking your shot.
Sri Lanka in June won’t give you the picture-perfect version of the island. It’ll give you the one everyone else misses: quiet, hot at times, soggy at others, and, if you ask me, considerably harder to forget.
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